The Fear of Thorns
by Once Upon a Faerytale
Summary: Karigan was found not far from Lynx, and the two returned to Sacor City together, but Karigan was left to bear - or not - the consequences of Mornhavon's tainted magic. Years later, Karigan must return to Sacor City and the people she left behind.
1. Home Again, Home Again

_Edited 1/10/15_

**Dislcaimer:** Anything you recognise Belongs to KB

* * *

Karigan inhaled, humming in satisfaction. The rare spices on board permeated every breath she took, but underneath it was the unmistakeable smell of Corsa; sea salt and fish and seagull shit. She grabbed a crate of sugar and stepped of the ship as it docked. The wharf creaked under her boots as she made her way to her family's wagon.

Kieran Kelo, her Cargo Master, held a skin of wine down to her from the front. She deposited her burden and took it with a nod of gratitude.

"You're looking extra crispy there, boss." Keeran grinned, the white of his teeth a sharp contrast to his dark skin. Karigan had offered to let him take the trip in her place, but the younger man insisted she needed the holiday.

"I was hoping the cloud isles would turn my skin as pale and soft as their name, but we can't have everything." Kieran laughed.

"It's good to have you back. We've about gone spare keeping up with demand. Seeing my home village would have been nice, but seeing gold is nicer."

Karigan and Kieran returned to unload the ship, joking with the crew and accepting thanks for the easy voyage.

The crew took their leave, and Karigan heaved a sigh as she stretched her arms above her head, feeling her shoulder and back pop. She and Keeran drove to the nearby Warehouse and unloaded everything again.

Finally allowing herself to feel the pull of home, Karigan clambered back up and let Keeran steer the pair of huge, shaggy horses out of Corsa and towards the G'ladheon manor. Wildflowers were just beginning to bloom, and Karigan admired the riotous carpet on either side of the well-worn path, the exertion of constantly hauling on the ship's ropes and shifting heavy containers leaving her pleasantly inattentive to the flow of missed gossip Keeran was inundating her with.

Before Karigan knew it, Keeran was shaking her shoulder, and the lazy swaying of the wagon had come to a standstill. "Hey boss, we're back home."

"H-hold your horses, I'm getting down." Karigan stifled a yawn, distantly aware of Janelle and Ryan unhooking the horses and leading them to the stables.

Keeran closed the front door behind her, amusement in his voice as he said, "I'll just let you catch up on a bit of shut-eye, yes?" Karigan mumbled an affirmative, dragging her feet up the stairs and falling into her room and onto her bed, still fully clothed. The sun was just beginning to set ad she hadn't eaten for a few hours,, but she didn't care enough to fight the insistent drag of sleep.

~O~

Karigan woke to the hot blaze of sunlight on her face and a high, excited voice filling her ear.

"Mph. Let me sleep."

"Absolutely not, Kari girl," Aunt Brini stated, "you've been on that boat for more than a fortnight and you can't have properly bathed that entire time. Up." Now that she was more awake, Karigan could hear the slosh of water as somebody filled the tub. Karigan rolled off the bed, caught herself on hands and knees, and grinned at her aunt's dissaproving, "tsk."

"I had sponge baths on the ship." She stood up and began undoing the laces of her shirt. Aunt brini gave a disparaging snort.

She sighed. "You know how I worry about you. You're all I have left, since…" She trailed off, letting the words hang, since the bandits attacked. "Well, I'll let you clean yourself up. Don't take too long, Master Kelo received an important letter for you." She bustled out, followed soon after by the maid, who left soap, scrubbing brushes and a clean towel beside the tub.

Karigan finished undressing, only just noting how salt-encrusted the fabric actually was, carefull to leaving it in as small a pile as possible. As she sank into the steaming water, she felt her overtaxed muscles slowly relax, warmth seeping right into her bones. Karigan gave herself a few moments to relax, then set about with soap and brush, determined to become somewhat presentable. By the time she was satisfied, the water was murky brown and lukewarm. Karigan hauled herself out and grabbed the towel, drying off. She changed into a comfortable, olive green tunic and black pants, rebraiding her still-wet hair with the ease of long practice.

Karigan padded down the stairs, following the scent and sound of frying meat, to find Kieran seated at the large dining table, already hewing into a veritable feast of sausages, eggs and freshly-baked bread. Aunt Brini turned from the stove at her arrival and held out an identically huge plate.

"Eat up, you're likely to need all the food you can fit in your belly today." With that ominous statement, Karigan took the proffered food and sat beside Kieran, who gave a muffled grunt Karigan took for a greeting. Karigan ate in silence, even after Brini joined them, waiting for one or the other to tell her more about the letter. It was only once all three plates were emptied, cleaned and stacked away that Kieran spoke.

"Brini tell you much?"

"No," the women traded glances, "just said it was important. Anything bad?"

"Wouldn't know." Keeran pulled an envelope from beneath the table, palm covering the seal. "Sure you want to read it, boss?"

There weren't many things that could put such an apprehensive expression on her friend's face, or many people. She took a swipe, catching the letter before he could pull it out of reach.

"Who is it from?" Karigan saw the seal and froze, ice trickling through her veins and coalescing into a painful throbbing centred on her chest. An intersecting firecrand and crescent moon. The royal seal. It had been a long time since she'd seen it.

Karigan took a moment to steady herself, her own voice unfamiliar as it said, "Thank you, Kieran. I'll be in the study if you're looking for me." Karigan's hands pushed her chair back; Karigan's legs carried her up the stairs and down the hall to the bright room with the ornate desk and creamy parchments, their quality a match for the missive in her hand. She bypassed the chair to perch among half-completed orders and discarded quills on the desk. With a hand that absolutely did not tremble, she slid her fingers under the flap and broke the seal.

Karigan took a deep breath and tugged the letter out, letting her eyes wander over the single crease, following the straight edges and noting the slight bleeding through of ink, not enough to make out the words. Gathering her courage, she unfolded it and began to read.


	2. Nineteen Years Earlier

A/N: Some of this was taken almost directly from the end of _Blackveil_, so if you recognise anything, I don't own it. That goes for the whole story, too.

Uh, really early chapter. So yay!

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_Nineteen Years Ago_

It was dark by the time Karigan found any sign of human habitation, and the chill of the open plains made the distant bonfire all the more welcoming. She had pulled as much of the glass from her flesh as she could, and bound what wounds she could with one hand, but she was still weary from pain and blood loss, and she knew instinctively that she would not survive the night alone.

Using the last of her energy, Karigan waded through the long, dry grasses until she was noticed. To her relief, if was Ealdaen and Teliagoth who greeted her, ushering her closer to the light and warmth, where Lynx already sat.

"Glad to see you. We weren't sure you made it out, or even anywhere near us."

"Yes," Teliagoth agreed with Lynx, "It is lucky you were in both the same time and place as us." Karigan shuddered at the idea of being transported _through time_ in her current state. Noticing, Ealdaen summoned a spare cloak out of somewhere and draped it over her. Lynx held out some of the Eletians' food, and Karigan practically inhaled it, alternating bites with sips from the water skin. When she was sated, Karigan glanced around, not having seen either Yates or Lhean. When she asked, Both Eletians turned to Lynx, who turned to Karigan.

"Yates… His injuries were similar to yours. Perhaps he would have survived them, but Mornhavon's possession burnt the life out of him." Seeing Karigan's expression, he continued. "He told me not to let you blame yourself. This was all Mornhavon's doing." Karigan did not fully believe it, for she had been the one to refuse him the mask, but she said nothing.

"Mornhavon was badly injured by your actions, Galadheon. We should rejoice for whatever reprieve such an attack had granted us. Rest now. You are badly injured and will need your strength to return to your people." Karigan had no reason to complain, and curled up under the cloak as close to the fire as she could handle.

During the night Lhean did not arrive, so the two groups parted ways after a chance for Karigan to visit Yates's cairn. Teliagoth gave his longbow and arrows to Lynx, as well as his water skin and a portion of their food. Between the two of them, Karigan and Lynx were sure they could survive long enough to reach civilisation. With a Final Farewell, Ealdaen and Teliagoth set off towards Eletia, leaving the pair of green riders to make their way east, to civilisation. Karigan was given charge of Yates's journal and brooch, both kept in his satchel. Neither rider had much more on them than clothes, but Lynx had his knife and Karigan her moonstone, doubly precious for what is had allowed her to do.

Karigan felt the loss of cheerful, boisterous Yates all the more keenly for Lynx's taciturnity, and she vowed to take every opportunity to wound Second Empire and Mornhavon's forces, to save even one rider from death in service of King and Country.

~O~

It was not until they reached the outskirts of the Sacoridian border than Karigan noticed anything was wrong. Neither she nor Lynx had a single coin on them, but hunting could only do so much, and both were wanting more than small game roasted over a campfire. It was approaching evening, and Lynx tried to eke some hospitality out of the wide-bellied, greasy-haired innkeeper, but he scoffed at their pleas, claiming "king's promises ain't worth aught to me'n any'un else round 'ere." He did suggest they could pawn their "fancies" to the woman down the street, if they were so inclined. Surprisingly, neither Karigan nor Lynx were.

"Well, a bit more rabbit won't kill me, I suppose," Karigan mused as they left the building to the innkeeper's derisive laugh. Passing through the town, Karigan recalled the similar North, the small village she had been sent towards by the Berry sisters. She had found Joy Overway's brooch there, and had barely given it the second glance necessary to deactivate the concealing magic. It really was amazing, she mused, what people used to be able to do with magic.

Unconsciously, Karigan reached up to press her fingers against her brooch, reassured by the almost living feel of the cold wings and horse's body, which was… not there. Tamping down an irrational surge of panic, Karigan wrapped he fingers more firmly around the symbol of a true Green Rider, eyes mapping out what her fingers felt, the detailed feathering, the curls of mane and tail. But while her mind easily called up the correct image, her fingers felt smooth enamel discs, petals curving into the centre, where a few sharp spikes represented the flower's stamens. She closed her eyes, using the sound of Lynx's footstep to keep even with him. She took her hand off, breathed for a count of five, then brought her hand back to the – _her_ brooch.

Flower.

Still five petals, edges curled slightly inwards, the back smooth metal joining onto the clasp that pinned it to her uniform.

It couldn't be. She was probably just imagining it, thinking of Joy's brooch and the innkeeper's comments. It was like breathing; forget about your conscious effect on it, and it would go back to working by itself. With that belief held firmly in mind, Karigan quickly caught up to Lynx, who looked at her curiously, but didn't say anything.

They stopped not long after, when it became too dark to see. Lynx had heard two nearby rabbits with his Gift, and shot them before they knew any humans were near. Karigan tried not to think about the magic he had used. She could use her Gift, _of course_, but there was currently no use to it except tiring her out.

Karigan didn't realise how distracted she had become until Lynx waved a steaming rabbit in front of her face, the smell wafting towards her. Lynx was able to cook tastier food over an open fire than most people could manage with pots and pans. She took the stick gratefully, giving him a smile that was more a grimace, all she could manage. She didn't even know if she would be able to eat anything with her stomach so tied up in knots. He frowned at her.

"Are you okay? Meat can't be that intolerable; we won't be forced to sell our brooches. Damn, I don't even know if the things'd let us."

"They wouldn't." Karigan was sure of that. She'd spent a year trying to escape the Call, and the brooch would always end up pinned to her, no matter what she did with it. Lynx hmmed, chewing on a leg. He pulled his own brooch off, and Karigan hadn't even thought to look at his, to check if it was only her own which was malfunctioning.

Before she could will her eyes to do otherwise, they turned to watch the brooch flicker between his fingers, flashing gold in the firelight. Gold was promising.

"'Spose you'd know. I wonder, sometimes, what other people see, if it would match what they'd feel, if I guided their fingers over what _I_ saw. How much the magic could hide it then." He flattened his palm, and the brooch at there, innocuous, much too small for the effect it was having on her. Karigan leaned forward in morbid curiosity, her heart racing with both terror and elation as she made out the shape of wings. She reached forward to pluck it from his outstretched hand, but it tumbled from her fingers once she got close enough to see. Wings, yes, but the small, feathered body of a bird. An owl, Karigan noted with dark amusement; fitting for Lynx.

She realised Lynx had been staring at her while she stared at the brooch, half-hidden in the grass, and she gasped, filling her lungs with oxygen before the spots in front of her eyes got too bad. She hoped she wasn't going to faint. "Sorry!" She picked it up and nearly dropped it again; her hand was shaking so badly there was no way Lynx would miss it. Avoiding Lynx's eye, she all but ripped her brooch off, pulling it to where she could easily see it.

Each of the five petals was subtly shaded from Courte-blue in the centre to a dark violet flickering at the edges. The pale yellow stamen tips stood in sharp contrast to the darkness behind them, and the craftsmanship was exquisite, the metal thin enough to be light but not fragile, the joins smooth and unnoticeable.

It was beautiful.

Karigan had never hated the sight of anything more in her life.

She barely resisted the urge to fling it into the dying embers, but her fingers clenched over the bauble, the indents and pressures _all wrong_, and Lynx's vague worry turned into startled alarm.

"Karigan?" His voice was low, concerned. She should tell him. She couldn't be a Green Rider without a working brooch. She'd be no more than a glorified errand-girl, a cross-country Green Foot. She turned away, slipped the brooch into her pocket where she wouldn't see it.

"Goodnight, Lynx." Her voice broke twice on the words, but she ignored it and wrapped herself in her Eletian cloak, her back to the fire and her fellow – _the_ Green Rider.

She heard Lynx shifting uneasily behind her, knew she had obliterated the musing, whimsical mood beyond any hope of repair, but couldn't bring herself to care. Lynx placed another log on the fire for the night and then lay down on his own cloak, the sounds of a shifting body eventually turning into faint snores.

It was only once Karigan was completely sure he was asleep that she let the tears fall, clogging her throat and her heart, leaving her gasping, until she fell into exhausted slumber, her cheeks streaked with salt and the brooch pressing uncomfortably into her ribs where she lay on her side.

* * *

I just really wanted to write this scene, and I wondered how a Rider like Karigan would handle it. It's pretty late here, so sorry if I made any glaring errors. Also I don't know if I'm any good at writing angsty stuff, this kinda came out of nowhere.


	3. The Letter

**A/N:** Yes, it's just the letter. Karigan's reaction will be posted soon, though. :)

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_Sir Karigan G'ladheon,_

_You are cordially invited to participate in the celebration of the coming of age of Ronin Hillander, High Prince of Sacoridia._

_Please retain this note for identification if attending the masquerade ball, to be held in the great hall of Sacor Castle one sennight before the winter solstice._

_Tourney events will be held in the days proceeding, one event per day, ordered so –_

_Jousting_

_Archery_

_Melee_

_Swordfighting_

_If you wish to participate in any of the events, please see the Castellan, Ferrick Auren, before the celebrations commence. A winner will be selected by the Prince from each of the events, to be rewarded during the Banquet._

_The Prince's Banquet will be held the following day from sundown onwards, and all are welcome to partake of the foods offered. A winter solstice celebration will be held in the castle grounds the next night. On offer will be traditional wines and cakes, and the solstice bonfire lit._

_This letter entitles the addressee to extend the invitation to one other only._

_Sincerely,_

_King Zachary Hillander, High King of Sacoridia_

* * *

A sennight - archaic word for a week. I like it. It always sort of confused me why we had 'a week' for seven days but 'a fortnight' for fourteen days.


	4. Preparations

Here's the next chapter because I was feeling productive today!

* * *

The ink was a surprisingly light blue, the scribe's letters more evenly curled and uniformly slanted than Karigan had ever had the patience to achieve. The only black ink was the king's signature, two indecipherable scrawls at the bottom of the letter, each respectively headed by a large Z and H.

Karigan pressed the letter to her lap, barely daring to think of what she had read. Had it truly been that long? Queen Estora had barely begun showing when Karigan left the city, taking the barest minimum necessary for the trip to Corsa. She quickly had the rest brought down, the clothes and knick knacks she had left in her room in the _visitor's wing_.

She wondered if he had Estora's golden curls and milk-white skin, or Zachary's natural tan and Hillander-brown eyes. Perhaps a combination of both. She wondered if she had always been this much of a masochist, to even consider the possibility of finding out for herself.

Discarding letter and envelope on the desk, Karigan strode down the hall and past Aunt Brini and Keeran, talking between themselves at the dining table. She ignored their glances her way slipping on a pair of soft leather boots and forgoing a coat as she braved the frigid air and entered the stables.

Janelle scrambled up from the pile of hay she and Ryan had been resting on, reading one of her father's old horsemanship books. Most of the horses peered out of their stalls to inspect the newcomer, but Karigan was drawn to the loud whinny that greeted her arrival, the sound issuing from a leggy black mare tied to the hitching post, already tacked up. Eolia's mother had been a gift from Damian and Lady, sent along with the Rider mounts as thanks for her efforts against Mornhavon. How they learned of it, Karigan never discovered, but Eolia had inherited much of her mother's preternatural intelligence.

"Master Kelo said you'd be wanting a ride," Janelle piped up from behind, a shy smile on her face. She had only been working at the manor for a few months, and wasn't quite used to the relaxed atmosphere Ryan had grown up in.

"I'll have to thank him later, then, but I'll thank _you_ now." Karigan gave a slight bow, grinning as Janelle blushed.

"It was no trouble, mistress." Janelle held Eolia's reins as Karigan mounted, the mare dancing beneath her. Karigan took the reins, waiting for Janelle to duck back into the empty stall before urging Eolia out at a quick trot.

Once they rounded a bend in the path, Karigan let Eolia have her head, burning some of the pent up energy from a month of her owner being away, snow flying around them as the mare broke into a canter.

Karigan closed her eyes, revelling in the stinging wind and rocking motion, so much more comforting than a ship's heaving. She let herself forget waiting trade agreements, forget the letter, forget what she used to be.

~O~

It was late afternoon by the time Karigan returned, her cramping stomach demanding to be filled. Her hands were almost blue, but her mind was clear and she had come to a decision out under the snow-draped forest.

Karigan brushed off Aunt Brini's attempts to wrap her in a dozen layers of wool, but accepted the steaming mug of hot chocolate Keeran held out to her from his spot in front of the blazing hearth fire.

"Good ride, boss?"

"Yes. I just needed some space to think. It was a good thing someone made sure Eolia was ready for me, wasn't it?" Keeran returned her weary grin, tipping his own mug in acknowledgement.

'I knew you would likely need it. You never say much of your time up there, but I can tell there's a ghost or two dogging your steps." _Literally, at times_, Karigan thought wryly.

"Well, the prince is throwing a coming of age do, and Sir Karigan had been invited." She saw both Keeran and Brini exchange loaded glances.

"The snows are still deep, and people still want to buy things," her aunt said, "so I'm sure you'll be excused from trekking all that way to celebrate the birth of a boy you've never met." _Thank you, Aunt Brini._

"No. I'll go. He'll be king one day, and might need to call upon the realm's only knight. It'll be better if that's not the first time we meet. You'll come with me, though, Keeran, I'm allowed to bring someone."

Both Brini and Keeran attempted to talk her out of it, but she held firm. Nineteen years was enough time to blunt the blade that was Sacor City. She wanted to do this. She _needed_ to do this.

~O~

The next morning, Karigan set Alyn, her accountant, in charge of the few trades that were scheduled for the weeks she would be away. She explained her reasons, and he wished her well in "mixing with the blue-bloods".

Together, Keeran and Karigan rode into Corsa, this time appropriately attired.

"So, what will you be going as for the masquerade, boss?"

"I thought a simple merchant, dressed and masked in clan G'ladheon's colours." She did not want a repeat of the last ball she had gone to.

Even through the scarf and beanie he was wearing, Karigan perceived Keeran's appalled response. "Boss! It's the _Prince's masquerade_; you can't leave me to be the only one of us dressed for the occasion." Karigan held back an irritate comment, realising he had a point. They were going together, they should have some sort of unity between their choices.

"And what's your suggestion?"

"I noticed some lovely, unclaimed bolts of coloured silk when we dropped off that Could Isle shipment. You can never go wrong with birds, there are so many types to choose from."

It seemed an easy enough option. Keeran could have his eye-catching colours and Karigan could go as something that was still low-key. "Alright, but no peacocks or hummingbirds for me." Keeran _hmmed_.

"Something understated, then. A raven?" Karigan made a face at Keeran's shit-eating grin; he knew her opinion on the long-dead Raven Mask. "Sure? Crows are too similar, and we don't want you in a _dull _costume." Eolia snorted and shook her mane, as if in fervent agreement with the other rider's words. "See? Even the horses agree with me. At least, Eolia does." Suddenly, Keeran's pensive expression turned eager, his eyes lighting up. "That's it!"

"What is?" Karigan had a bad feeling about whatever cogs were turning in Keeran's brain.

"It's the perfect design. Not bright, but there's no way you'd be thought of as _boring_."

~O~

"No. Absolutely not, Keeran Kelo."

"It's perfect though."

"It's a bad choice for a birthday party is what it is."

"He's not gonna get offended if you dress like him, boss. And neither is the prince."

Karigan was still arguing the point as they collected the fabric and accessories from the warehouse, as they entered the seamstress's, and as the women began to measure, pin and cut around Keeran. He was obligingly unmoving except for his mouth, but even that was for too much, in Karigan's opinion.

"Go on, mistress, the design will look lovely on you."

"_Blasphemous_." She corrected irritably. The head seamstress was starting to get annoyed at Karigan's reticence, and had evidently had enough.

"M'lady, with all due respect, you're being ridiculous. It's clever, and alluring, and there will be plenty of other people there for eyes to be offended by. There aren't many dark _and _exciting birds that aren't ravens." Karigan had had enough. It was only one night, and as long it wasn't a damp-damaged stage costume, she didn't care anymore.

"Alright, alright, you all win." Keeran beamed at her, and only a sudden flurry of pins stopped him from bounding over and hugging Karigan in relief.

Karigan was then, as per her imperious convincer's instructions, stood up next to Keeran to be similarly measured and fitted out. The work progressed quickly after that, and Karigan paid a little extra to have both outfits completed within the week.

Now with much less coin at hand, the two returned to the G'ladheon manor to gather an inventory of all the food, clothes and paraphernalia necessary for a trip to Sacor City and the events to take place.


	5. Arrival

**A/N: **New chapter! :D I also took the time to write up an actual plot beyond "Karigan and Zachary _finally_ get together", and I've included ridiculous amounts of fluff. So look out for all that.

* * *

A week later, just as Karigan had requested, the masquerade costumes were completed. She returned to the store for a few adjustments to be made, and then they were ready to be transported. Everyone was briefed on their responsibilities in her absence, and all of a sudden Karigan was eating the last dinner she would have at home until she returned. She savoured every bite, tattooed the flavours and textures onto her tongue, wove the hearthfire's heat into her skin and spooled the sound of her aunt's voice around her ears. She would need every last comfort if she was going to keep her nerve once she got to the city.

Karigan spent the night before their departure chasing elusive sleep, alternating between tangling herself in her sheets and pacing the length of the room, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. A part of her was eager to see her friends again, if any of them still heeded the Call. After she left, she lost contact with all but a few of her closest friends in the Rider corps. She had heard nothing of any of those who had left more than a few years after she had, although Alton brought news that Mel had begun to follow in her adoptive mother's footsteps, and had been well on her way to someday becoming captain. A larger part of Karigan, though, dreaded the coming trip. The people – person – who held most of the memories she tried to avoid would _definitely _be there. He wouldn't miss his own son's birthday, especially not this one.

There was no use for it; Karigan would just go to the ball, leave as soon as she politely could and do her utmost not to cross his path. What would he even say to her? She had left the castle without a word to anyone, just a short note that she needed to see to the funeral arrangements of her father and aunts, and would be collecting her things soon, since she had no plans to return. It was unlikely he even felt anything for her after all this time.

Eventually, Karigan fell into an exhausted doze in the padded chair by the room's glowing brazier. She woke with a crick in her neck and Aunt Brini once again chattering at her to get up.

Karigan wolfed down a quick meal and packed the last of her things for the trip. Keeran was to drive the carriage up, with Karigan riding beside him. The costumes alone took up most of the carriage's inside. Sitting stride Eolia, her heavy travelling cloak slung about her shoulders and the familiar weight of her saber at her side, Karigan felt almost at peace. She accepted Aunt Brini's tearful farewells as she dismissed Karigan's regret at not being able to invite her as well.

"The cold is too much for these old bones, but you two are hale and hearty enough for the trip up. Be safe, watch your back, and _have fun_. It has been too long since I have seen you without a single burden pressing on your shoulders. This is an excuse to relax. Take it, and bring me back tales of all the trouble you got yourself into," was her Aunt Brini's advice. She saw them off at the front of the manor, waving the shawl wrapped around her arms as they departed. Keeran drove out first, and Karigan followed in the slightly less slushy rise between the wheel ruts.

Karigan returned Brini's wave, then kicked Eolia into a trot, coming up beside Keeran. The young Cargo Master wore a grin that made him look even younger, and despite her reservations Karigan could feel his enthusiasm catching on.

"We're going to Sacor City, boss. We're attending the Prince's party _and_ you're proving that place has no more power over you."

"We are, indeed." Karigan replied. She hoped Keeran wouldn't be too disappointed with two out of three.

~O~

The duo reached the Sacor City without mishap, and bypassed the gate guards with everyone else. The crowds bustled up and down the main road, which seemed to travel much further than Karigan remembered. She noticed a number of familiar places, but many unfamiliar ones, and many of the houses and stores had extra storeys built upon them.

The castle gates were held open and tended by half a dozen black and silver clad guardsmen. One of them approached her as their carriage rolled to a stop in front of him.

"You here for the Prince's celebrations?" He asked.

"Yes." The guard gave a bored glance over the proffered letter, then stepped aside to usher her forwards.

"Leave the carriage and horses at the stables. There're pages waiting to show you to any available rooms left. You're cutting it close, arriving so late." Karigan scowled at the implicit judgment.

"I sure the town has plenty of places to stay if it comes to it. I don't need castle accommodations to attend." The guard held his hands up in a placating gesture, and Karigan clucked at Eolia, sending her to the stables at a brisk trot.

Karigan had just dismounted and handed Eolia over to a stable boy when Keeran rolled the carriage up. He flipped the boy a gold coin for both of them, and Karigan let young girl, a green foot by the winged shoes stitched to her tunic, lead her inside the castle. Karigan tried to ignore the way the girl stared at her with unabashed curiosity, even as she navigated them through twists and turns of the castle.

They went deeper than had ever been inhabited during Karigan's time there, and she could still see the evidence of long disuse; soot-free stone above the burning wall sconces and runners still thick and brightly coloured beneath their feet.

"You're Sir Karigan, aren't you?" The Green Foot asked her, looking slightly awed, and Karigan turned her attention to the girl.

"Karigan's fine."

"Oh. Okay." The girl seems unperturbed by Karigan's short response. "I'm Gemma. My mum and dad work in the kitchens here, so I get to be a Green Foot and learn to read and write. I hope I can be a _real_ Green Rider one day."

"You can never be sure, but I have known Green Feet to become Riders once they're older." Gemma brightened at that news, a grin splitting her face.

"Like the Captain!"

Karigan furrowed her brow. "Who's the Captain now?"

"Melry Exiter." Karigan raised her eyebrows in pleased surprise, and she heard Keeran make a noise of interest from behind her. Gemma seemed to relish their responses. "Yep! And her husband's a Rider, too. Rider Duff." Karigan smiled at the mention of Fergal. She had missed his boyish enthusiasm, but he'd been too much of a junior rider for him to take time off to keep up with her new-old life.

They fell silent after that, Gemma leading them through passageways and past the occasional servant, who gave them no more than a cursory glance. Finally she stopped at a wide, well-lit hallway and gave Karigan a folded piece of paper from the satchel hanging at her side. When Karigan unfolded it, it turned out to be a map, marked with coloured lines each, leading one of a dozen old halls, set deep into the castle.

"You're the only ones in these rooms so far, so pick any ones you want. We're here" Gemma said, pointing out a solid green line on the map, "just follow it back and you should end up at the castle entrance. Most of the important places are pretty easy to find from there. But I suppose you'd know, yeah?" Gemma blushed slightly at the remembrance, but Karigan smiled.

"A reminder's always nice."

"Oh, that's good. Your thing'll be brought over here soon, so you can set up. I gotta go back and wait for anyone else arriving, but I hope you win the tournament!" With a wave and another bright smile, Gemma turned and trotted back down the way they had come, quickly disappearing around a corner. Nonplussed, Karigan turned to Keeran.

"_Win_ the tournament?"

"You're Sir Karigan, of course you'll win. Do you doubt your own abilities?" Keeran teased. Karigan rolled her eyes.

"You know that's not it. We're not staying for the tournament." Although Keeran made a sympathetic noise, she caught the regret around his mouth and eyes. She sighed. "I suppose you want me to enter?"

"Not at all," he replied easily, "all I want you to do is give _me _the best of the rooms here." He darted around her, opening each door in turn and exclaiming over the furnishings. "Look at these, boss!" He appeared from one of the rooms halfway down the hall, holding an embroidered quilt bunched in his arms. "Look at the quality! And there's one in every single room. Winning the Imperial War must've been good for the king's coffers, eh?" Karigan fingered the cloth, smiling at Keeran's reaction. She had acted similarly the first time she'd been in the castle, marvelling over the decadence just laying around. And while it wasn't the finest quality she'd ever seen, the war must indeed have been profitable to be able to outfit every room so.

Keeran muttered to himself, totalling prices in his head, replacing the bedding and inspecting each of the remaining rooms. Karigan was content to trail behind, peering into the rooms after he left them.

In the end, Keeran and Karigan chose rooms opposite each other, closest to the wing's entrance. Just as Gemma had predicted, their possessions were left right outside their rooms, and Karigan efficiently unpacked everything and sorted it into the wardrobe and drawers in her room.

Keeran appeared in her doorway just as she finished hanging her costume up, his eyes lit with excitement.

"Care to give me a tour of the place, boss?"

"A lot's probably changed since I was last here."

"I'm sure you'll still be a better tour guide than any other I could have." Karigan realised this was his idea of getting her back out into the castle, that he'd know she wanted to just hole herself in her room, emerge for the ball, and leave at first light the next day. She considered making her excuses, but couldn't face the disappointment that he'd try not to let her see.

"Alright. I'll show you around. It's a damned hunk of stone, the major landmarks can't have moved too much. I'll start from the entrance hall; it's a good point of reference to have." Karigan tried to ignore Keeran's sudden delighted-puppy expression, but she felt her spirits begin to lighten almost against her will. She pulled out the map, following its directions as Keeran bounded from wall to wall, trailing his fingers over busy tapestries and peering at the stonework like he knew what good masonry was. _Showtime_, Karigan thought.

* * *

I genuinely don't mean to keep breaking up chapters mid-scene, this one just blossomed while I was writing and got too long.


	6. Masquerade

**A/N:** Fun fact! This was the first scene I imagined for the story. Also; warning for naughty language.

* * *

In the morning, Karigan dragged Keeran with her to find Ferrick Auren, who turned out to be a cheery, rotund man who was happy to submit her name to the melee and swordfighting lists. By that afternoon, though, Karigan had become seriously worried that the top of Keeran's head would fall off from the mouth up, he was smiling so wide. She happily resigned herself to his constant cheer at the prospect of more time in Sacor City.

~O~

In the evening, Karigan and Keeran had a light, early meal before the ball was due to start. As night fell, they retired to their rooms to prepare. Karigan was once again amazed at the quality of the dress, produced in such a short time. The inky black fabric fitted her perfectly, the leather was buttery soft and the steel accent gleamed even in the low light from her lamp. It really was beautiful, when she thought about it subjectively. She slipped the comfortable, low-heeled boots on, lacing them with only a bit of difficulty, then tied her hair up to better fit the mask.

When Karigan emerged, mask in hand, Keeran was already in the hallway, attaching his own mask. He looked up and beamed when he saw her. The fine silks he had picked looked good on him, bold and bright. Keeran held out his hand for her mask, tying the ribbon for her.

"Are you ready to go now, boss Westrion?"

"As soon as you are, Lord Peacock." Karigan replied, looping her arm around the one he held out. Together they walked the length of the castle, passing increasing crowds of men and women dressed as extravagantly as they were. Karigan stared unabashedly, noting that Keeran had been right about the popularity of avian costumes.

Keeran, who had the only pocket to keep the invite it, held it out for inspection as they neared the stairwell to the ballroom. They were ushered up the stairs, where a herald waited to announce people's presence. Karigan forewent such an introduction with a familiar sense of alarm, choosing to quietly descend the wide staircase sticking out into the middle of the room. A band of minstrels were already playing a lively tune, although the singer's words barely be heard over the dull roar of all the schmoozing going on.

Keeran saw the refreshments table first, and pulled Karigan over, picking through the dainty bites to find one he wanted.

"There's a real crowd here, boss. Didn't think the Prince knew so many."

"_I've_ never met him, Keeran. Lots of these people probably haven't, either." Keeran hummed in consideration, possibly of her words, possibly of whatever he had just eaten. Karigan grinned, grabbing a goblet of dark red wine for herself. She sipped it as she eyed the crowd, telling herself she was definitely _not _looking for anyone in particular. She saw a deepening of the shadows in one corner, and could just make out watchful eyes surveying the room for any possible threats. She couldn't see Zachary anywhere, but a particularly large group of people were clumped near the Weapons, their voices young; friends and hangers-on to the Prince, no doubt.

"Karigan!" Her attention was drawn to a figure waving from across the room, her dress sleek and practical, and a bright forest green. Mel and Karigan met halfway, and Karigan was greeted by yet more rub-busting hugs, first from Mel and then Fergal, grown tall and broad-shouldered.

"Gods but it's good to see ya, Karigan." He exclaimed, shaking Keeran's hand as introductions were made.

"You too. I thought you'd stay a little squirt forever."

"Nah, not me. I ate my veggies as a lad." Fergal's half-mask matched Mel's, and they were both red-cheeked and bright-eyed, fingers gently brushing even as Mel praised the design of Karigan's costume.

They talked for a few minutes before Fergal excused them both to dance to the song that had just started up, twirling a laughing Mel onto the dancefloor. They looked radiant together, and Karigan felt joy and envy in equal measure.

Keeran had wandered off while she was talking, and she spotted him in conversation with a trio of impressed-looking ladies, listening eagerly to whatever he was saying. She grinned and wished him all the best.

Karigan returned to the drinks table, refilling her goblet with a tropical-scented punch and looking to see if there was anyone else she recognised. She soon gave it up as a bad job, nearly twenty years and masked crowds working together to thwart her.

Out of curiosity, she looked back at the young Prince Ronin, who she could now glimpse between the bodies of the bootlicking lords and flirting ladies who surrounded him. He held his goblet aloft, making a toast, and the rest of his crowd followed suit, a great cheer rising from them.

"And what is your judgment of the new Prince?" Karigan looked over at the tall man who had appeared beside her, admiring the quality of the midnight blue costume he wore. The colours were bright and solid, and while his mask was relatively simple and unadorned, the edges gleamed with what she was sure was real silver. Obviously not a minor lord.

"I have no idea." Karigan replied. "I haven't had the pleasure of his august company."

The man smiled, warm brown eyed crinkling behind his mask. "Is it not true that the Birdman can tell the worth of a man's soul with a single glance?"

"Westrion might, but I have no such abilities." _His _invisibility_, however…_

"A shame," the man murmured, "it would save days uncountable talking with the schemers and climbers." How Karigan loathed those who tried to play up their own minor grievances.

"Such burdens you bear, my lord, dealing with rich men seeking you out in your manors and estates." The man chuckled, and Karigan scowled at him. Even using sarcasm, she felt herself slipping into the formal speech patterns that had been drilled into her for just such occasions.

"Would you believe me if I said I owned neither manor nor estate?" _No._

"Are you such a fop that you spend all your wealth buying fancy dress?"

"This is an occasion worth spending some coin on, don't you think?" Karigan had to agree, thinking about the cost of the two dresses, not to mention not being able to make deals while she was away from her home. The man casually reached out and snagged a goblet of wine from a passing servant. Karigan sipped at her own drink in lieu if replying. "Have you spoken to the prince yet, this evening?"

"Not this one nor any before it."

"We shall have to remedy that, then. Ronin!" Karigan's eyes widened in alarm as the prince looked over, beamed in their direction, and then extricated himself to walk towards her. While she was trying not to let her distress show, her subconscious cocked its head to better listen to the man's voice.

"What are you doing? He's the Prince!" She hissed. The man in question approached, a lazy smile on his face and a goblet in his hand. He was dark-eyed and bright-haired, his hair styled in a way that Karigan guessed was intentionally messy.

The Prince looked enquiringly at the man, his eyes flickering to Karigan for a second.

"Come, a king must meet his subjects if he wishes to rule well." The man said, and Karigan resisted the urge to dig an elbow into his side, reminding herself this place wasn't home, and such an action would be terribly insulting at best.

"Very well." Ronin took Karigan's hand in his and kissed it. "I am Prince Ronin Hillander, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. I would make the proper bows, but my balance is rather compromised as it is." She echoed his cheeky smile.

Karigan pressed her hand to her heart and bowed, catching Ronin off guard. "Karigan G'ladheon, of Clan G'ladheon. It is an honour to finally meet you, your Highness." She looked over as the man by her side made an undignified, garbled noise, but his face quickly smoothed out, blank as the mask he wore. Ronin swapped his empty goblet for a full one, taking a large gulp.

"Of course it is. Everyone tells me so. The men who want my money and the women who want my cock." The man made another, slightly more agonised noise this time, and seemed to be greatly regretting ever having called the Prince over. _Serves him right_, Karigan thought. She grinned. So the Prince was a chatty drunk, was he?

"I'm a merchant, I make a living off hoping the seas stay calm and the roads stay clear. I know what it's like to be royally fucked, and I can't say I've ever really enjoyed it." Ronin laughed raucously, and Karigan caught the Prince's friend covering his face with a hand.

"Is it fun to be a merchant, Karigan G'ladheon?" The Prince asked.

"Is it fun to be a Prince, Ronin Hillander?"

"Hmph! I like you, but I must spread my royal cheer amongst all the guests here. You will be at the tourney, of course?" Well, Karigan was doubly glad she'd agreed to stay now.

"It's a touch difficult to compete when I'm not there."

"Well, I will cheer for Clan G'ladheon to win; most of the lords have all the land they could ever want. Farewell, my lady." Despite his earlier words, the Prince executed a mostly-correct bow and sashayed over to another small group, their outfits a riot of rainbows and ruffles.

Karigan turned back to the man, eyebrows raised. "Aren't you glad you called him over?"

"That will depend entirely on what you think of him."

"He's crude and doesn't know to watch his words when drunk. He'll make a good king."

"You have strange ideas of what makes a good King, Lady Karigan." Something in the back of her mind shouted, pointing at the man. But she was already facing him, and she couldn't see anything of note.

"He's open, honest. He doesn't have any nefarious plans he needs to keep a lid on." The man – Karigan really needed something to call him – nodded, but didn't say anything more. He stood with Karigan, the two of them eying the crowd. Karigan saw Keeran and his new lady-friends converge on the Prince, joining in with the animated conversation.

The man finished his drink, set it on the table behind him, and turned to Karigan, holding out his hand.

"Would you join me in a dance, Lady Karigan?"

"_Dance?_"

"It is a masquerade. Dancing is what one does."

"I thought that was mingling. And it would be improper to dance with someone whose name I didn't even know." Karigan said accusingly.

"Ah," the man said lightly, "but that would defeat the purpose of the masks, would it not?" He still held a hand out, waiting. Karigan tuned in to the music, and smiled without conscious thought when she recognised the tune.

"Well, my lord, you're in luck. A friend of mine wrote this song, so it's only right that I dance to it." She rested her hand in his, feeling the strength in his fingers and the calluses on his palms.

"Miss Fiori does live up to her family title, no one can deny that. But there's not many she can call friend." He led her into the middle of the rom, seamlessly joining in with the pairs of dancer already out.

"I went to Selium with her." He wrapped a hand around her waist, lightly enough to be polite, and she reached up to grip his shoulder. They slid in line with the dancers, Karigan humming along to the music to keep her feet in time.

"This was one of her earlier compositions. You wouldn't happen to know the friend she wrote it for?" Karigan's traitor face flushed bright red, and she nearly stumbled, her heels tripping her up and skidding on the polished marble. She clutched at the man to keep her balance, and he stopped to help her regain her footing. Her muttered thank you was cut short when she made the mistake of meeting his eyes first. He was a lot closer than the dance required, and he'd had to wrap both his arms around her to arrest her momentum. A frisson of electricity shot up her spine, stealing words and breath from her.

The simple brown of his eyes now seems as liquid and warm as Eolia's, and she could see the stars reflected in his pupils, even though they were inside. She became hyperaware of the heat of his arms and the proximity of his body to hers.

"… you okay? _Kari_?" Reality rushed back with the force of a thunderclap, dizzying her.

"What?" She gasped, staring wide-eyed at him. The way he said her name stirred some distant memory, of stars and loving worry.

"You blanked out on me," he was saying. "Is anything wrong?" Karigan wanted to laugh at herself. She was acting like a love-struck teen, just staring at him! But no wonder.

"No. I'm completely okay, Zachary, thank you for asking." His expression turned from concerned to sheepish in half a second. Oh, he was _so_ busted.

"Mmh, that is good. Shall we continue this dance?"

"What? No!" A thought occurred to her. "No wonder Ronin listened to you. I thought you were just a Lord-Governor." Indignant, Karigan stood up by herself and marched through the crowds, not caring that Zachary followed in her wake. The King! And he'd known who she was since she introduced herself to Ronin.

"Karigan – Kari…" She spun around to face him, making him stop walking or run into her.

"Don't call me that!" She resumed her walk, fed up with the whole night and intending to leave as soon as she could get past the throngs of people.

"Lady Karigan." The urgency in Zachary's voice was gone, replaced by courteous formality. "I wish to apologise. I should not have deceived you. Perhaps we can talk further, away from attentive ears." Indeed, when Karigan bothered to notice, she saw not a few people watching them with interest. She looked for a free space, but the whole room was packed. "May I suggest the balcony, my lady?"

Karigan eyed him, thinking that it seemed appropriate, since all their previous party talks had been there. Without replying, she changed direction, forging a path through to the glass doors until she reached the open air. It was cold enough to raise goosebumps on her arms, but she didn't mind if it kept people away. He followed her out, and she waited for him to speak.

"I didn't realise who you were at first, just someone to while away the night talking to."

"But then I introduced myself."

"Yes." Zachary plucked his mask off, heaving a sigh. "And… I could not believe you had returned after so long. I had not thought to see you again. I believed that if you knew who I was, you would refuse further conversation." _And you were right about that._

Karigan, unsure of her reply, studied his face, wondering why she had not recognised it sooner. He shared his son's eyes, and his hair was as vibrant and honey-golden as it always had been. Stray strands fell over his forehead now, and his face was more lined than she remembered. She supposed she hadn't retained her youthful radiance, either. He watched her just as intently as she watched him, expression calm and unworried.

"I was only going to stay long enough to meet the Prince, then leave. But," she shrugged. "I was convinced to participate in the tournament, so I'll be staying for a few more days. Maybe we'll have time to talk more over the week." Maybe the memories would not cut so sharp as they did, feelings left to prowl the castle corridors, fangs gleaming.

"Of course."

Karigan glanced back into the ballroom, where the band had retired but for a single minstrel, who sang to the tune he plucked out on the lute in his hands. Only a few people danced now, and the room had emptied a great deal.

"Well, your Majesty, it seems as if your guests are starting to retire. I'll join them, with your leave?" Sardonic, but she needed her etiquette at the moment.

Zachary raised one hand, trailing a finger down her cheek as he smiled, a little sadly. "Of course." He repeated. Karigan stepped back from him and turned to leave, only just noticing that the Black Shields had positioned themselves on either side of the balcony doors. She did not recognise their faces, and they didn't react to her appearance, so she didn't stop to talk, as she might have had she known them.

She located Keeran, still chatting amicably with the Prince.

"Boss! Guess who this is!"

"Hmm… the Prince?" Keeran's face fell at her already knowing the answer. "I met him earlier tonight."

Ronin raised his glass to her and drank, already looking very rosy-cheeked. "Karigan, wasn't it? Do you know this man?"

"Yes. And I'm here to tell him I'm done for the night, so he shouldn't wait up for me."

"F' sure, boss!" He gave her a one-armed hug. "Thanks f'r lettin' me come!" Karigan suppressed her mirth and bid them goodnight, wondering how grateful he would be in the morning.

The castle corridors were empty as she walked back to her rooms, retracing her earlier path with only a few wrong turns. She reached her destination and collapsed onto her bed, the unexpected emotional exertion of the evening leaving her exhausted as much as a day of sparring usually did. She barely had the energy to remove her mask and change out of her dress, the downy mattress calling to her with a siren's voice.

* * *

Ugh, casual swearing makes me uncomfortable. Glad it's only for this scene.

I think I'm starting to go crazy waiting for Mirror Sight. I tried to read the MS thread yesterday and only got as far as the OP's mention of Cade, and a baby, before I chickened out. My subconscious somehow twisted that into a dream where Cade ended up pregnant, and then Fastion snuck into my unit and tried to steal all the zooper troopers I don't have.. No spoilers if you comment though, please. :D


	7. Tournament: Day One

**A/N:** An update! I'm not dead. =D

* * *

The morning of the first tournament event dawned crisp and clear. Karigan was glad it wasn't the high of summer, but she still pitied the clanking participants who wandered around the jousting arena, some on foot, some astride huge warhorses decked out in clan colours, snorting plumes of white breath in the early morning chill.

Keeran followed Karigan through the castle and out to the field, yawning between pleas for his head to stop aching. Outside, Karigan found Mel taking to an officious-looking man, both of them standing in the centre of the jousting field. Mel waved them over as the man wandered away, scowling at a roll of parchment overflowing from his hands.

"What are you doing up so early? I'm expected to make an appearance, but only a few crazy lordlings are out at this time." Mel leaned against the wooden rail, arms folded and stance so reminiscent of Laren Karigan couldn't help but smile. She _had _woken early, as was her habit, but couldn't stand waiting in her room with only thoughts of Zachary and his words the previous night to keep her company.

"I've never actually seen a joust before. They seem so clunky and ridiculous." Karigan said, sidestepping the question. Mel didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, no. It's wonderful. There's so much skill involved. You need to be very co-ordinated to hold the lance steady, aim it, and keep your seat at the same time." Mel went on to describe the many techniques for winning a round, how much training the horses needed to run full-tilt at another rider with a lance, the precise paces to aim for greatest force exerted with least power used. Keeran, slightly more aware than before, joined in the conversation with sleepy interest.

Karigan let her eyes wander, taking in the surrounding setup and scenery. All the tourney events, with the exception of the archery, were scheduled to be held outside the city perimeter, where they could take up as much space and be as loud as they wanted.

The sturdy jousting rail had been set up in a dusty arena cleared of grass, wooden stands tracing its length and colourful tents blooming like wildflowers down into the plain below. Pennants snapped in the sharp breeze, announcing which clans were camped where. Without fail, the most ostentatious pavilions belonged to the twelve governing clans. Clan Hillander flew the royal emblem along with their own lavender flag. Voices carried faintly to her on the wind, as did the scent of dozens of campfires.

"Oh, hello there!" Karigan blinked and turned back to the conversation and a third figure, approaching from the castle path. He waved, pale sunlight glinting off his honeyed hair and the silver gleam of his coat buttons. Ronin brushed the hair out of his eyes as he reached them, and all three bowed.

"None of that, I'm too hungover. I met you both last night, did I not?" He squinted at them, looking no better off than the young man beside her. "You're the one I challenged to the drinking game," Karigan and Mel both turned to stare at a sheepish Keeran, "and you're the lady merchant. Westrion."

"Yes, your Highness."

"Ah, I said something I souldn't have, I think. Sorry for that. It's all a bit of a blur and I don't get many chances to _really_ drink. Alcohol goes to my head rather faster than I'd like." He pouted in an overly put-out way, then smiled at Karigan. "My father wasn't too boring, was he? He's quite serious, although he had fun making me regret my drinking this morning. He'll be down later on, mayhaps you will get another chance to talk."

"I look forward to it." Karigan hoped her smile appeared sincere. Ronin nodded absently and turned to Keeran.

"You said you were new to the town, Keer? I know _all_ the best places for you to spend your well-earned coin. Come, I'll tell you about them." He slung an arm about Keeran's shoulders, steering him away and revealing the beginnings of a remarkable knowledge of the best bars and vintners, for someone who didn't drink much.

"Should I be worried?" Mel shook her head.

"The prince is boisterous, but he's been raised to look after every Sacoridian, new friends included." Karigan relaxed, and talk with Mel turned to which of the contestants that day were participating in the melee swordfighting, and who Karigan would need to look out for.

Slowly, as the sun meandered its way into the sky, the stands began to fill with spectators, and Karigan spotted Keeran and Ronin parting ways. The prince headed for the most elaborately decked podium, where a golden rosette hung, trailing ribbons fluttering, awaiting the day's victor. She averted her eyes when she spotted Zachary already seated, gaze roving watchfully over the crowds. A quartet of Black Shield stood surrounding the stand, faces impassive even when confronted by the brightly dressed revellers. Mel excused herself just as Kiran reached them, citing a need to sit at the Royal booth as one of the King's counsellors.

Keeran and Karigan found a spot at one of them emptier stands, exchanging polite nods with the few people already seated. Once everyone had settled in, a herald stepped forward from the royal stand and blew her brassy trumpet. The loud murmuring of the crowd was silenced almost immediately. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Now begins the first day of His Royal Highness Prince Ronin Hillander's Tourney! Contestants will match their skill in the jousting lane, and the victor will be awarded the Prince's Token, proof of exemplary skill and courage, and shall be seated at the High Table during the Birthday Banquet!" Cheers drowned out the woman's voice, and apprehension trickled down Karigan's spine.

With preliminary introductions out of the way, the herald announced the first two contenders, who trotted out on monstrous, prancing chargers, waving to the spectators. They lined up and started towards each other, Karigan tensing and Keeran leaning forwards as they closed the distance. There was a sharp crack as the contestant met, one of the lances exploded in a shower of wood chips, and its unfortunate target was sent tumbling into the dirt. The spectators clapped and cheered in varying degrees of reservedness, and he was helped up by a page in matching colours as his horse was led away for him. The victor galloped his horse up the lane and back, one fist raised. It was engaging enough, Karigan supposed, but she much preferred the finesse one could achieve with a sword.

After the herald announced the man's name and the next jousters, two servants raced out to collect the fallen chunks of wood that lay close enough to the rail to impede the horses. Keeran perked up and pointed at one of the new riders, with an eager, "That's _Ainsley_!" Bryant Ainsley was apparently a respected friend of the prince, and, to hear Keeran talk, the single greatest horseman Sacoridia had ever seen. Karigan watched for long enough to see Bryant unseat the other jouster. From the deafening response, the prince wasn't the only one to think highly of the young man.

Although Keeran whooped enthusiastically at each new charge, Karigan soon lost interest in the clash of brute forces, and simply listened for any of the names Mel had mentioned, enjoying the scenery and festive atmosphere.

A break was held around noon, and servants wove through the crowds to place platters of chilled food and drink on the rough benches set up behind the stands. Karigan found Fergal wolfing down bite-sized appetisers, something disgustingly saccharine in appearance in his other hand. "Jousting, eh? The aristocracy wrestling from a distance. Think you'll stay for the afternoon rounds?"

"Hello to you, too. I think I'll brush up on my swordwork for the melees."

"You'll blow them all away. I don't have a doubt otherwise." Fergal caught Mel's hand as she passed and twirled her into a one-armed embrace. "But the training fields should be plenty empty, if you're headed that way."

"Arms Master Drent will be there," Mel chimed in, "if you want a bout for old times' sake."

Karigan grinned in response. She couldn't have asked for a better trainer than Rendle, but she must have been more masochistic than she thought. The idea of sparring against the intimidating swordmaster sent a thrill of reminiscent eagerness through her. "He's still around?"

"Don't let his age decieve you. He's just become gnarlier as time goes on." Karigan bid them both farewell and headed back to the castle.

It was indeed deserted except for the occasional servant or courtier, and she had no trouble breezing through to the training yard. Drent sat by the only occupied ring, simultaneously sharpening a longsword and shouting deprecating encouragement at the two people sparring. He looked up when he spotted her, though, and met her halfway, the familiar snarling grin on his face.

"Back again, Greenie? I thought you'd had enough of my rough-and-tough training? Gone back to Rendle's coddling."

"Not a Greenie anymore." And she didn't even care about the sting she'd become all but inured to. "It's always good to change things up occasionally."

"_Humph_. Then let's see how rusty you've gotten, girl. Show me that sword you're carrying, no use swinging a carpenter's saw in a fight." Karigan proffered her blade, letting Drent's gravelly tones and grudging approval sink into her head. She slipped into the familiar mindset of act-react and let the stretch and shift of muscles work their soothing magic.

~O~

Keeran found Karigan back in her rooms that evening, lying spread-eagle on her bed and groaning quietly and continuously. He placed a plate of food on her stomach, and she swore at him and gabbed for the knife and fork.

"Had a nice, relaxing spar to prep for the rest of the tournament, did you?"

"Ugh. I forgot how intense he could get."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think I'll be able to speak tomorrow," Keeran offered." "There were a lot of very good jousters."

He did sound quite hoarse, Karigan noted. "Tough shit."

Keeran huffed and took a sip of his drink, which smelled strongly of honey and lemon. "Bryant Ainsley won the josting. Ronin intriduced us. He also challenged me to an archery competition tomorrow. Not part of the official challenges, of course, but he actually thinks he can shoot better than me. You'll come to watch, won't you?"

"Of course. How could I turn down the opportunity to see you to show that uppity prince Ronin who's the real master?" Kiran's face lit up.

"Thanks, Kari." He pushed his serving of bacon onto her plate and stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Bright and early." Keeran waved and toed her door closed, the sound of his chipper humming following him into his own room. Karigan finished eating, pushed her empty plate onto her desk and flopped back down, covering her eyes with one arm. Tomorrow would be a busy morning.


End file.
